Jagged Silhouette
by Fire Frog
Summary: Something is wrong with Blakeney. Will Killick act before it's too late?


Warnings - nope. Oh, one, Australian spelling - beware!!!!  
  
Summery - Something is wrong with Blakeney. Will Killick act before it's too late?  
  
Comments - Film based (ie Stephen is taller than Jack), book influenced, set a little after the movie. Note - Water Sickness is related to Rabies. There have only been two reported incidences, but as they were both fictional characters I think the world is safe from further infection for now. Thank you to L-Bird, a great beta reader. I fixed what I could, now all remaining errors are entirely my own! Disclaimer - All characters belong to Patrick O'Brian, the wonderful writer who created them.  
  
Jagged Silhouette. By Fire Frog.  
  
Lord Blakeney narrowed his eyes and scanned the area outside the great cabin where Killick usually lurked. There. There was a chink of light and he lent forward eagerly to look through the tiny opening. As he had suspected the well-lit captain's cabin immediately came into view. He'd known Killick had to have some safe way of finding out when to bring in what was required, besides listening at the door.  
  
Through the spy hole Blakeney could see the captain and the doctor playing some improvisation upon their instruments, their eyes watching each others hands for the unspoken cues they gave when changing tempo or style.  
  
Jack Aubery sat hunched over his violin, his golden hair all but free of its black bow, eyes twinkling as he caught another fine twist of melody and wove it deep into his performance. The captain was sublimely happy with both the music and his company.  
  
Stephen Maturin, whose reddish brown hair was shorn short to allow ease of comfort when he wore his doctors' bobbed wig, was no less happy. The large cello between his knees was staying put for once, for they were in calmer seas, and his side wound of some months back was all but healed. It certainly gave no twinges as he pulled into a heavy adagio.  
  
Eventually the music came to an end and the two men drew back from their instruments, talking quietly as they secured the items in their specially made travel cases.  
  
"What the hell are you about, ya bloody swab..." Killick's low snarl died in his throat as the shadow at his private spy hole turned, revealing itself to be one of the ships young gentlemen. And the look in Lord Blakeney's eyes chilled the steward's blood in his veins. He'd never had a look like that aimed his way before, there was death promised to him should he issue the slightest conflict.  
  
"They are ready for their toast," the pale boy said, his voice menacing yet distant.  
  
"Aye, sir," Killick heard himself answering and he turned to fetch the captain's cheese on toast, the usual supper when he entertained the doctor. He was back as fast as ever he could be, swallowing nervously when Blakeney opened the door and gestured him in with a curt gesture.  
  
For a moment, after the steward entered the cabin and beheld the two men bent over a map on the tiny cabin table, he was tempted to warn them that they were being watched. But then sense returned and he knew that exposing Blakeney would reveal himself as well.  
  
Not that Preserved Killick misused the spy hole, a man needed some sort of advantage to keep up with Jack Aubrey and his ways. But it was still not a thing he wanted known of, neither.  
  
Lord Blakeney was spying there still when he left the cabin, so Killick went to stand by him, a shadow in his shadow. They stood in silence together, Blakeney indicating when Killick should go and retrieve the supper dishes.  
  
And there the young gentleman stood, gaze unwavering as he watched Jack Aubrey hovering by the doctor. At one point the captain brushed at Stephen's hair, making some joke, and Blakeney briefly debated charging into the room and running the man through with his dirk. But Stephen was standing, giving a polite bow and heading for the door to his own partitioned off corner of the cabin, in no need of a rescue.  
  
Blakeney stood back from his station and looked into the dark thoughts of his mind. "He molests the ships doctor," the young man muttered to himself, clenching his one hand into a fist. "He will do worse if I do not stop him." He became aware of Killick's concerned face and snarled at the man before turning to go below. There was much he had to plan, and not much time to do it in. There was not a moment to be lost.  
  
...  
  
"There's something queer 'bout the lad, as if he's not right with 'mself," Killick muttered to the doctor as he stuffed the man into his old grey coat. There was a chill wind off the sea and the doctor were not to catch a cold on his account, no sir.  
  
"I will keep an eye on him when we get to shore, never fear. He will be fine." Stephen struggled to get his buttons done up before the steward could do it, but Killick was swifter and fastened him up as if he were a child.  
  
"Eh, its not 'im I'm worried about." The older man muttered as he stepped back to admire his handiwork, but he said it low enough that the doctor didn't hear him.  
  
Blakeney had arranged this little trip ashore while the captain was away at the nearby town. Jack Aubrey was attending the last day of a court martial and as usual after such a distasteful event would want to leave with the tide as soon as the verdict was given, so all hands were supposed to stay aboard.  
  
But Blakeney had commandeered the doctor's skiff and talked the learned man into going to see some natural wonder just off shore with him. The boat was small enough for Padeen, the doctor's man, to row on his own, so they were taking no passengers, even though Killick had uncharacteristically pressed to go.  
  
...  
  
"Is it far?" Stephen asked, making his slow way over the rock-strewn cavern floor. The torch in his hand shed little light, its flame seemed small and suppressed. "The air in deep caves can get quite foul, although the opening you saw the bats using would refresh things quite nice..." he never got to finish his sentence, as the world abruptly spiralled out into darkness.  
  
Vision came back slowly and the doctor blinked his eyes to try and get them to focus. "A rock fall - Blakeney, are you..." A finger pressed against his lips and he relaxed. "You're all right then. Look, you must make your way to the entrance carefully, with never a sound, or the roof might cave in more. I can't move, get Padeen and...."  
  
Again the finger pressed to his lips. "Shh, sir. I've see to Padeen. But you're not to worry, you're perfectly safe now." Blakeney's voice came directly whispered into his ear, and Stephen shivered.  
  
He had finally realised that the odd sensation he felt from his head was that of a hand stroking his hair over and over. It had been hard to tell, through the pain of what certainly felt like a concussion.  
  
And now that he lay still and took stock of his surroundings he realised the reason he couldn't move wasn't because he had been trapped by falling rock, but rather that his arms and legs had been tied.  
  
"Blakeney?"  
  
"He won't find us here," the boy was saying, his words fast and low. "You needn't be afraid. And if he does come, I have my blade. No-one will hurt you again, I promise. Here in the dark, they can't see us, and we will be safe. And the water won't reach us this far underground. We're perfectly safe. You'll see."  
  
...  
  
"Mowett, where the hell is the doctor's boat?" Captain Aubrey yelled at his first lieutenant as he was piped aboard.  
  
"Uh, the doctor and Mister Blakeney took her ashore, not long before, sir, with Padeen to pull her." The auburn-haired officer swallowed nervously. The captain was early, and that was not good. The trials outcome must have been a predetermined one, and his captain hated those worse than any other. He would be wanting to pull strait out to sea.  
  
"Then get her back, sir!" The captain snapped, then relented his tone. It wasn't Mowetts fault he'd had such a damnable day. "Belay that, I'll do it myself, and I'll tear a piece off young Blakeney for being so foolish. How often must I tell him never to let a naturalist have his way, especially not our doctor. The man has no sense of propriety or time." Jack turned and went over the side, the cutter's crew scrambling to get back to their places. Unseen Killick slipped aboard as well, looking worried.  
  
Jack directed the rowers to pull hearty for shore. He was going to have strong words with Stephen over this. Very strong words indeed.  
  
...  
  
"Up, just a little further." Blakeney gave a final tug and he had the doctor sprawled in the alcove. It was a good spot, level and deep inland. The baskets of fruit he had brought were lined against one wall in a neat row. There were blankets as well, and he wrapped one about the shivering doctor's shoulders.  
  
Stephen was certain now that he had a concussion. He'd thrown up already at the vigour of being dragged amongst the rocks. His head swam and he longed to close his eyes and sleep a little, but he knew that could be a fatal error.  
  
Blakeney was still muttering to himself, stroking restively at Stephen's hair and occasionally at his face and chest as well. The doctor wasn't sure what had befallen him, if perhaps there had been a rock fall and the boy had hit his head or...but no, the food and blankets already here belayed that notion. He wished he could see Blakeney's face, but the lad had not stopped to light another torch since the one the doctor had held had gone out.  
  
"Mister Blakeney, I would, I should feel very much safer if I might see again," he tried, hoping to use Blakeney's fondness for him to his advantage. It worked for there was a strike and a flash and soon the light increased as the wick of a lamp caught flame and was reflected out by the glass.  
  
"There, see, everything is better." Blakeney stood over him, his pale face lit up and shining. There was a sheen of sweat on him, for sure, but having dragged a man of Stephen's height and weight through a cave with only one arm might explain that. It was his eyes that told the true story, for they had undergone a change. They were sunken and the skin all around them was a terrible fierce red colour.  
  
"Oh," the doctor whispered, looking troubled. "Blakeney, the bosuns monkey bit you before it died, did it not? Why didn't you tell me?" Stephen's voice was sympathetic, inwardly he cursed himself for a fool. A man such a Killick had seen the ravages of the disease, but he with his time limit imposed by Jacks imminent departure and strong naturalist's urge to seek out a possible new form of Chiroptera had not. The boy had water sickness, he was positive of it, the red eyes, the paranoia, the lack of water drums amidst the fruit baskets he had smuggled ashore....  
  
"I didn't want to worry you," Blakeney said, kneeling down and caressing the side of his face. His eyes held a fevered intensity. "You mustn't worry, you are mine now and I command that you not do so. Dear Stephen. You...are...mine..." The boy drew closer with every word, then suddenly he lunged, taking the doctor by surprise.  
  
"What the hell is this? Stephen?" Jack Aubrey was miraculously standing behind them, a flaming torch in his hand. Blakeney looked back at him and snarled, one-handedly jerking free the blade that hung at his side. Then uttering a weird undulating cry he drove at the captain, dirk foremost.  
  
Jack avoided the blow easily, and the next, and the next. Blakeney's breathing grew harsh and he screamed with thwarted rage. Jack tried to talk him down, but the amiable midshipman he knew had been replaced by something not quite human. Frustrated at being unable to take on his enemy Blakeney made as if to go back to the helpless Stephen, and now Jack didn't hesitate. He struck the boy from behind, bludgeoning him until he fell insensible to the ground.  
  
The captain started to go to his friends side, but Stephen told him no, he was to tie Blakeney up first, and to bind his mouth with his necktie as well. This Jack did as swift as he could, aided at the last by the men from the boat who had followed Killick up from the shore. The steward had urged them to disregarded the captain's orders and follow him into the cave.  
  
The men treated Blakeney firmly but with care, for the doctor told them to.  
  
"Take him to the ship, carefully, and keep him tied up, for his is grievously ill," Stephen directed them.  
  
"And now for you," Jack said, kneeling and taking hold of a rope, Padeen hovering anxiously at his side.  
  
"No, you must leave me tied as well," Stephen instructed him. Jack gave him an incredulous look. "I may be infected too."  
  
"Infected? Is this disease passed on so easily?" The captain looked after his retreating men, they were carrying Blakeney on a blanket held between them.  
  
"It is not, I would have told you to leave if it were. But there is little doubt he has infected me, look to my shoulder."  
  
Jack moved the doctor's loose shirt to one side, noticing for the first time that it had been ripped open, and frowned at the ugly bite mark that his friend had branded into his skin.  
  
"You shall have to drop us both at the hospital of the Little Sisters of Mercy. They know how to treat this, it is a commonplace ailment here, although not one suffered through lightly. And Jack, when we get back to the ship, you will have to gag me also."  
  
...  
  
When Jack had reached the shore earlier he had found Padeen looking heartbroken, desolately making his way into the surf with the doctors boat. Blakeney had told him to go back to the ship, that they had made a great discovery and could not leave. The captain would understand and they would meet up again at one of the next ports along.  
  
Today had not been a good day for Jack, and his surgeon deserting him was the last straw. He made Padeen tell him where the doctor had gone then marched into the dark cave, ordering the others to stay behind.  
  
What he had to say to Stephen Maturin would best be said without onlookers.  
  
Then he saw the torch flung on the ground, close by it Stephen's old grey coat and a patch of blood. Leading away from this was the distinct markings of a body being dragged. He'd hurried on, but slowed when he approached another light. There lay Stephen, with Will Blakeney leaning over him in a curiously menacing way.  
  
In hindsight Jack knew that he'd been bitting the doctor's shoulder, teeth slicing down through skin and tissue, drawing blood. No wonder he had looked like a fiend from hell when he turned to face his captain, blade extended.  
  
God, but Jack's heart had nearly stopped in his chest.  
  
Brushing the horrid memory aside he squatted down next to his friend. Stephen lay in a cocoon of blankets Mr Higgins, the surgeons mate, had thought best to confine him in, rather than the usual hammock. Jack made sure Stephen knew he was there then held up a length of soft muslin that the sail makers had found for him.  
  
"You're sure you want me to do this, m' dear?" he asked softly, meeting Stephens blue eyes. Already there was a reddening about them that made the return stare intense and somewhat frightening.  
  
"I have secrets, joy, you know that. The paranoia may see me say things that I would rather not be heard. And the victim has a compulsion to bite. I will not risk infecting more members of the ship."  
  
"Oh, I don't know," Jack drawled, cocking his head to one side as if considering. "Blakeney fought me off something fierce. It wouldn't hurt to have one or two infected sailors kept down below, just for boarding parties. Awkward Davies, for instance...."  
  
"Jack!" Stephen protested, a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth, for he knew the captain was trying to distract him from what was to come. Jack sighed and moved forwards onto his knees.  
  
"You know, there have been times I've really wanted to do this." He joked, his voice oddly shaky as he dropped the middle of the strip of cloth into Stephen's compliantly open mouth and tied the ends behind his head. Stephen turned so that one bright eye could glare up at him. 'What?' it asked indignantly.  
  
"Yes, now that I think of it," Jack continued more firmly, "this is a splendid time to tell you about our campaign aboard the Genereux. Then perhaps we can have a brief run through of the correct names for all the sails, ropes, knots and splices used on a modern man-of-war."  
  
Stephen groaned as Jack made himself comfortable on a pile of sacking, crossed his legs and began thinking back. "It was in 1800, not long before I first met you, and Lord Keith had...."  
  
Stephen listened as the nautical tale went on and on, plotting several inventive ways to get Jack back for this abuse of an unarmed civilian. It would not be too terrible a revenge, however, for Stephen knew to thank the blessed saints for a friend willing to stay with him while the tendrils of fever and insipient paranoia took hold and obliterated his world.  
  
...  
  
Visiting the Little Sisters of Mercy was no longer the trial it had been. While duty compelled him out to sea, Jack had made the port that housed the neat whitewashed hospital his base of operations and went back there regularly.  
  
Stephen had stopped screaming whenever someone entered the room, and no longer told Jack that the nuns were scheming to poison him. Listening to Stephen pleading with him to 'for the dears sake get me out of here' had nearly done him in.  
  
But that was over with now and when he came to visit he found the doctor sitting in the infirmary, chatting with the nurses and the one plump doctor about local remedies and their equivalents around the world. Stephen smiled when he saw him in the doorway, but kept on talking.  
  
Blakeney had not welcomed his captains earlier visits and Jack had always made them brief. Officially he had let it be known that the young midshipman had lunged at Jack in delirium, but tripped and knocked himself out before the threat could be put into force. If the truth had been acknowledged a court martial would have followed, and the captain had had enough of those to last a lifetime.  
  
This visit Jack had sent William Mowett to see Blakeney, and left Stephen for himself.  
  
"I take it my men are now all better?" Jack asked, beaming benignly on all and sundry. The little plump doctor nodded assent and the nurses all bobbed agreement. They liked the large English captain and wanted to please him. "Good! The tide is turning, we shall just have time to make it aboard."  
  
"I still have things to do..." Stephen protested, but there was Killick exiting his room with his gear bundled under one arm, his chest of books came after, being carried by Padeen. So much for his exchange of ideas with the good people of the hospital!  
  
Mowett helped Blakeney with his things, keeping a not unkindly eye on his reaction to seeing Jack and Stephen together again. Some events might be laid out as happening a certain way by the captain, but truth has a habit of surfacing. Especially with Killick and Padeen as outraged witnesses.  
  
...  
  
"Ah, Lord Blakeney, come in." Captain Aubrey was seated at his table, several papers set out before him, a much abused quill in one hand. "Take a seat, would you, I should like to have a talk."  
  
Blakeney sat, his eyes resting on the tabletop, never lifting to meet the captains.  
  
"You can't have him, you know," Jack Aubrey said quietly. "He's mine."  
  
Blakeney looked up in shock and Jack smiled blandly at him.  
  
"Thought that might catch your attention. Look me in the eyes when I'm talking to you sir, or you shall do yourself an injustice."  
  
"Yes, sir," The boy allowed, nodding agreement, but wise enough now to keep eye contact as he did so. His own pale grey-blue eyes were wary, but the memory of past kindnesses kept the mind behind them open and receptive.  
  
"It is possible the incident on shore is worrying you. Put the matter from your thoughts, there is nothing to be ashamed of." Here he paused as the blush of colour across the boy's cheeks begged to differ. Still, it didn't signify, Stephen had told him so.  
  
"Will, you had a crush on Stephen, when the fever took you. Stephen explained this to me himself. Your feelings were twisted, much as his own were to lead him to believe holy nuns were attempting to poison him. The paranoia of the illness made you believe he was in danger of some kind from me. I understand that you were protecting him.  
  
And I know what it is to have a crush, we all have them as we grow, little fondness's for those we admire, learning exercises for the heart." Jack thought fondly of his dear friend Queenie, a young woman scarcely older than himself, whom he had allowed to set many of his first ideas for him.  
  
"I can see how you might want to protect someone like the doctor, he being practically a civilian on a military vessel. However I think it might be time for you to learn...."  
  
"Mowett's already organised a whore for me, sir," Blakeney cut in, not wishing to hear the offer a second time.  
  
"Has he?" Jack asked faintly, then he raised one hand and rubbed at his temples, thoughts regrouping as he sighed. "Hellfire," he muttered, then his hand dropped and he looked into his midshipman's eyes again.  
  
"That is not what I meant. It is time for you to decide what you want to be. I would like to advise you, if I may?"  
  
"Certainly sir, I would be obliged." In his heart Blakeney wondered if Jack Aubrey was about to demand he leave the ship, leave the service, and go home in disgrace. He prepared himself to face the order steadily.  
  
"Command," Jack said. "Some are born to support others, some are born to lead. You see Doctor Maturin and you want to protect him. Him and all the other puddin'-headed naturalists and musicians, the farmers and tradesmen, even the other sailors that share your berth. I have seen this, I have felt the same compulsion, even. There is only one way to achieve it, you know. Take command. Become the captain I know you can be. Only then can you effectively fight for those who can not do it for themselves."  
  
This was a secret Jack had learnt as a boy, turned before the mast, watching silently as injustices were metered out daily to his shipmates. It was a secret that Stephen Maturin had found a different answer for.  
  
He did not command, though he would make a brilliant admiral, Jack had often said so. But Stephen had done things, set things in motion that a hundred war ships could not have accomplished. No, Stephen fought with knowledge, Jack with power. Maybe Will could take both their methods and use them combined.  
  
"Yes, sir," Blakeney said thoughtfully. In his quick and youthful mind he was beginning to feel the edges of a puzzle he had been trying to fit together for a very long time.  
  
"Good man. Now go about your duties. I have paperwork to be getting on with, and you know how happy that makes me."  
  
"Yes sir." And the blond youth, not really much of the boy belonged to him now, got up to go to the door.  
  
"Oh, and one more thing." Jack raised his voice and Blakeney turned back to him. "Stephen isn't yours, but he 'aint mine neither. He's not a bird - if you cage him up he won't sing. He's a butterfly - you cage him up and he dies. It goes against the grain, but some people you can't keep safe, else they sicken and fade away."  
  
"Yes, sir." The young face grew paler, for the doctor really had nearly died, and on his account.  
  
"But on the other hand," Jack continued. "Butterflies like to flock together, you know. Try not to avoid his invitations to sit with him again, or you'll hurt his feelings."  
  
"Oh, I wont, sir!" Blakeney cried. He'd been torn about getting close to the doctor again. On the one hand there was something to be said for keeping his distance and buffering his poor heart.  
  
But certainly, if the captain said he was needed, then duty said he should go to the doctor immediately after his watch and beg to be forgiven and allowed back as a friend. He missed the doctor's company terribly.  
  
"Dismissed, then," Jack said, waving at the door. Blakeney saluted and left the cabin, a firmer tread to his step.  
  
"A butterfly?" Stephen Maturin asked, coming into the room from his cabin's door. "Jack, you do know what that means in sailor cant, don't you?"  
  
Jack just looked at him blankly for a while, then turned a rosy pink.  
  
"Now joy, I was just trying to stay away from saying anything about a bird in the bush being worth two in the...no, a bird in the hand is worth two... Oh, you know what I mean. I'm mighty sorry Stephen. Still, nobody shall learn of it. Young Blakeney won't tell. He's a fine creature, you know, and I'm pleased to say we've helped turn good ore into fine steel. A fine young blade to lead the next generation of navel men into battle, I dare say. He will be discreet."  
  
"I doubt it not, brother. But, have you not wondered how I knew it? For I was not listening at the door with Killick just now." There came a rumbled cough from beyond the cabin door and Jack cast it a suspicious look.  
  
"How did you hear then?" he demanded. Stephen looked up and there was the general sound of several feet making their way from the sunroof overhead.  
  
"Some of the glass has been removed after that ball hit it during the midshipmen's impromptu game this morning. I wondered why there was such a worried group gathered there and went to investigate. You can hear every word said down here, tis amazingly clear. I should have asked the others to move away, but I am only the ships doctor, practically a lowly civilian."  
  
Jack blushed. Had Stephen heard him tell Blakeney 'the doctor is mine'? He'd meant it only to catch the lads attention. Hellfire, but Stephen could hold a grudge if he chose to. Oh, and the vindictive little piece did chose to, he could see the gleam in those blue eyes. He should never have pulled that stunt while he was gagged, making him listen to the full list of rigging and the other nautical terms.  
  
"You are looking a little yellow, lately, my captain," Doctor Maturin said, pulling out a bulb syringe, tubing and salve. "Your liver, no doubt. I suggest a purging."  
  
"You bloody creature," Jack gasped, looking at the implements with dislike.  
  
"Ah, and that reminds me, you missed the last blood letting." And Stephen produced his little lancet and a bowl.  
  
Jack's look paled some more. He hated blood letting. Oh, in the heat of battle it was fine, but cold blooded surgery... A sudden vision of Stephen digging into his own side with a scalpel made him swallow heavily. The things he did for friendship....  
  
"First things first," chirped the doctor happily. "Drop your trousers, please."  
  
Finis. 


End file.
